


my mouth wrote a poem of welcome

by megyal



Category: Spartacus Series (TV)
Genre: Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-03
Updated: 2013-06-03
Packaged: 2017-12-13 21:22:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/829025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/megyal/pseuds/megyal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nasir seeks out Agron after their first kiss.</p>
            </blockquote>





	my mouth wrote a poem of welcome

**Author's Note:**

> I know I'm a billion years behind this fandom and pairing, but I watched clips of this pairing last night (all the clips! ALL THE CLIPS), and I wrote this as a little present for the mod of http://agron-and-nasir.tumblr.com/. They're the best. Please forgive any inaccuracies, historical or otherwise! _The title is from this quote: She kissed me, and my mouth wrote a poem of welcome to her lips._ -Terri Guillemets

Agron never fled from anything in his life. Not from contest, nor challenge, nor outright confrontation. With kin and foe, Agron stood his ground, showed them his teeth and his mettle, every single time.

Therefore, it was infuriating that he could not be in the same space as Nasir. He would walk into a room, spot the dark gaze locked unwaveringly with his and find excuse to continue on. The little man dogged his steps, hobbling after Agron with a determined cast to his features until Agron begged of Mira to make sure that Nasir kept a-bed, allowing him rest most needed and well-deserved.

"He may require more than rest," Mira had said, a smirk tilting her lips. "But I will do what I can. He can be stubborn." She raised her eyebrows at him. Agron pressed his lips together tightly in response, and left her with simply a grateful tilt of his head.

Late in the night, Agron discovered that Nasir's resolute nature far exceeded Mira's ability to keep him still. Agron was in the narrow room he claimed as his sleeping-area, repairing his shoulder-guard. He had already inspected the protective armour for his legs and had sharpened all his blades. Someone called his name and Agron glanced up, going still to find Nasir standing just before the thin rectangle of cloth which covered the doorway. Agron heard a slight creak and looked down; he gripped one corner of his shoulder-guard with excessive force, bending the leather.

"Apologies for the late hour," Nasir said, his voice very low. Yet, it warmed Agron's flesh, cooled it at the same time; Agron inhaled slowly and set the guard aside.

"None are necessary," he replied, and beckoned to Nasir with one hand, indicating that he would have a seat on the straw-stuffed bedding. Nasir made his way over with very deliberate steps, and Agron refrained from leaping from his feet to assist him. He did, however, rest his fingers on the other man's elbow as he settled down onto the bedding, groaning like a man made ancient by years.

"Such a journey between door and bed," Nasir commented. "How glad am I to traverse it quickly."

"You grow stronger by the moment." Agron watched the side of his face. Nasir nodded with a small smile and patted the wrapping over his injury. "Within weeks, you shall take up sword once more."

Nasir huffed in amusement and then grimaced in pain. "A day hoped for." He gave Agron a quick look out of the corner of his eye. "These words we speak dance around that which is in my heart, but touches it not."

Agron squared his shoulders, as if anticipating a blow. "What resides in your heart?"

"You kissed me." Nasir turned his head to look right in Agron's face, his hair slipping in dark waves down one shoulder. There was a hint of that same surprised pleasure on his face, that look which had struck Agron like a spear in the ribs when he'd drawn it out of Nasir with that touch of their lips. If not for the urgency to the arena in Capua, he would have tried to see that expression again and again, and be punished with wonder.

Despite the softness in Nasir's tone, Agron said, tightly, "That was...an impulse. I have been told that I am cursed with an abundance of such. If it was received as an offence--"

"It was not." Nasir was firm without being sharp, and he still smiled. "Your curse is as a blessing to me. It was far from unwelcome."

Agron nodded. He could find nothing else to say, his tongue was as a weight in his mouth. Nasir had no similar affliction.

"My body belonged to my dominus," he said and if the man were alive, Agron would but slaughter him anew. It chilled his bones to think that he had asked that Spartacus deal death to Nasir, and he shook his head slowly, returning his attention to Nasir's words.

"My body was his, for his use. Yet, never has his touch been as welcome as....your mouth." Nasir's gaze flickered down to Agron's lips and lingered there. It felt like fingers stroking over the skin, there.

"The choice was never mine to make," he said, his voice a bare murmur. "Now, there is freedom to accept and seek out the lips I desire." His regard travelled, seemingly reluctantly, up from Agron's mouth. "Such license! How does one formerly fettered withstand such authority? It is heady."

"As is your presence," someone said and Agron realised that the words had escaped from between his lips. These were not words of habit to him. Nasir leaned forward, and hesitated. He tilted his head and leaned in another fraction. Agron bent close as well, and their lips were just close enough for him to taste Nasir's gasp of pain.

"My wound, it pulls at me so," Nasir said. He sat back and breathed in a shallow fashion, a hand resting over the wrappings which covered his injury. "It is as Mira said, ere I escaped her grasp: I require rest."

"Then take it here," Agron offered. "It is some distance to your couch. Here, your feet." He stood and knelt at Nasir's feet, curling his fingers around Nasir's ankles. The skin was smoother there than he expected, and he rubbed them briefly. He lifted them with care and placed them atop his bedding. Nasir moved over, wriggling until he was very close to the wall.

"Here is space, so you may take rest as well." Despite the pallor of his face, there was a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "It would be a loss of lesson if I deprive you of your comfort."

"You are free to deprive me of anything," and there was that voice again, the one that sounded like Agron so, and used phrases so foreign and so natural at the same time. Agron stretched out beside him, arm bent, head propped up one hand.

Nasir wriggled like a little cat, fussy little twists which did not appear to cause him further pain, and then blinked up at Agron. "Do you find comfort?"

Agron leaned down and kissed him, a slow slide of lips and a brief brush of moist tongue. "I have," he said when he allowed a fraction of space between them. "I have."

_fin_


End file.
